Little Face
by greyslostwho
Summary: BB cutesy Christmas fic.


**LITTLE FACE**

**A Booth/Brennan cutesy Christmas fic. **

**Disclaimer: Nope, pretty sure I don't own anything yet.**

**Brief spoilers for the Foot in the Foreclosure.**

He's gotten so used to the whirring of helicopters in his life, but the one memory always falls back into place with worrying ease when he's in one. Running out of an abandoned, time bomb of a ship, half crazy with regret, fear and anger, and falling into the arms of the woman still dressed for the night before. Then, although she was whispering God-knows-what into his ear, the only sound he could make out was the whirring of the propeller engines. It's the same, right now, as he stares at the photograph of his son, wife and daughter and pretends to listen to the jokes the other FBI agents in his team are telling, full of festive enthusiasm and the joy of having bust the drugs gang wide open right in time for Christmas.

He hadn't thought, back then in that helicopter, that he'd ever get to where he was now. He'd been stuck in a simultaneously frustrating and blissful circle, dancing around real feelings, the complete truth, the inevitable uncertainty. It was, in fact, only a little over a year after that day on the helicopter that everything was set into motion, a wonderful domino effect kicked off with despair. His grandfather had died, and six years on that still hurt him – what he'd give to see his Pops meet Elizabeth – but his grandfather's death had prompted Brennan to tell him the real reason his father had left, and as he stared down at his knuckles, slowly turning white with the sheer force of his pain, she'd choked something out about promising to hold him, and had wrapped her arms around him and let him bury his face in her hair. When she'd finally pulled back he hadn't let her go far, cupping her face in his hands and pulling her lips to his, for one moment totally unconscious of any consequences.

She hadn't been as reluctant as he'd been prepared for. She said afterwards that she'd had so long to grow to love him that it had become such a certainty in her mind before they even started. He'd been in her apartment, in her bed, in her heart, before that summer. She'd told him she loved him – words that a few years before she didn't believe in – over a body in the lab one morning with Wendell hovering awkwardly behind, with nonchalance and grace that only she could make endearing. And he loved her all the more for it, because it was who she was.

They hadn't meant to become such a cliché, but they were so in love, so finally out in the open, so bizarrely suited to one another, that they couldn't help it. Booth didn't think for one minute she'd ever agree to marry him, but when she'd proposed to him herself, despite the knock to his masculine pride, he'd laughed at them both and heartily accepted her offer. He'd never thought he could be that happy, as she walked up the aisle and Parker stood just behind him, dressed up to the nines and looking so grown-up and smiling proudly, but he hadn't reckoned on the day his daughter was born, just over a year after the wedding. Elizabeth Christine Booth was 6 pounds, 4 ounces, and she fitted from his wrist to his elbow just snugly. She had wide brown eyes and a sprinkling of auburn hair and he loved her so much in that moment he thought his heart might explode. And Parker running into the hospital room and begging to hold his little sister took the words from his father's mouth, and he sat on the bed beside Brennan, holding her hand for dear life, for hope that she might anchor him, despite the tide.

The jolt as the helicopter hit ground was familiar too, and he made his quiet goodbyes to the remainder of his team and climbed out. He'd only been away a matter of weeks – the undercover drugs bust operation in Miami – and it had begun to seem like too long from the second he'd checked into the hotel down there. It had been tough – when weren't they – and he'd lost a few too many good men along the way, but they'd nailed it in the end, and with just enough time to get back for Christmas. He checked his watch. Five-thirty. It would be Elizabeth's bedtime in an hour and a half… he didn't stop to look if he was cutting in front of anyone as he flagged the taxi and climbed in, grunting the address at the driver and running dirty, calloused hands over his unshaven face. He was so tired, but nothing could detract from the excitement building in his chest.

"Home for Christmas, mate?" the driver asked, giving a small, wistful smile as he checked his rear-view mirror and moved off.

Booth found himself grinning madly as he nodded. "Surprisingly…"

The driver's eyes flicked to the crumpled photo still held between Booth's thumb and forefinger, passive. "Those your children?"

"And my wife… my little girl… she's nearly four…"

A melancholy sigh escaped the driver's lips, "Christmas is so magical when they're that age… you wait… tense dinners with the in-laws, screaming grandchildren, letters to Santa that will break the bank… you've got all that to come."

Booth chuckled, thinking of the ten-week old Retriever puppy that was staying overnight with Angela and Hodgins and would be all Elizabeth's in the morning. The driver smiled again, as he turned into their street.

"Have a good day tomorrow with your little ones, mate. And Merry Christmas…"

The hedge obscured the house, but there was a faint glow of light coming from the kitchen, and as he opened the gate and walked down the path, his heavy pack suddenly as light as a feather, he spotted them in the window. Parker would be there in the morning, but for now it was just Bones and Beth, his wife bending down to pull a tray of mince pies out of the oven, his daughter with her nose pressed against the window, staring up at the sky, looking out for reindeer.

Her eyes glanced down then, and focused on him, and the look on her little face – that widening smile – was the best Christmas present he could have asked for. He watched her mouth move, and then she sprinted away from the window, disappearing into the house. Brennan straightened up and turned around, looking right out the window at him, and although only a small smile graced her lips, her eyes lit up, turning that cerulean blue he'd fallen so in love with, and she closed the oven with grace and elegance, slipping her apron off before disappearing after her daughter.

About ten feet from the doorstep, the front door flung open and Elizabeth ran across the cold gravel. His pack fell to the floor at his feet, and despite his aching limbs, and the thousand knots in his spine, he managed to find the spring to lift her up and spin her wildly round in the air, her dark curls flying out, and she was shrieking with laughter.

_Daddy, daddy, daddy…_

He eased her onto his hip, ignoring the complaints that every joint seemed to give, and leant in to kiss his wife on the cheek as she helped him with his bag.

"Bones, I'll get-"

She shook her head, "I'm perfectly capable of helping you, Booth…" but the grin splitting her face at his return was too wide for him to take her scolding seriously. He let her take his pack in one hand and slip her other into his as they walked back up to the house, and closed the door softly behind them.


End file.
